


By Candlelight

by solarlotus



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Admiration, Gen, Power Play, Verbal Sparring, Wax Play, character exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarlotus/pseuds/solarlotus
Summary: Alfred and Uhtred meet by candlelight, Uhtred has a request Alfred does not wish to grant.
Relationships: Alfred the Great & Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Finan/Uhtred (implied)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	By Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> Just a thing I've had kicking around for a bit. I may add more chapters at some point.

‘You’re still working on your candle, lord?’ Uhtred asked, approaching Alfred who was in his library, hunched over his table of candles. His face was lit up by their light, making him look almost ethereal in the dimness.

‘I am always working, Uhtred. I have been working on many things this night, but yes, now I am checking the progress of the candles. Come.’

He beckoned Uhtred to his table and indicated the array of different flames.

‘What do you notice?’

‘They are candles, lord, what is there to notice?’ Uhtred shrugged, bored of the conversation and wishing to get to the point of his visit.

‘You are not a stupid man, Uhtred of Bebbanburg, no matter how you try to hide your wits at times. Look closer.’

Uhtred rolled his eyes and watched the candles for a few moments, allowing Alfred to beckon him closer.

‘Do you see now?’

‘The ones that drip burn faster, lord,’ Uhtred observed. ‘Because the wax is poor quality.’

‘Indeed, poor quality wax makes for a poor candle that will be an unreliable teller of the hour. It is the material we start with that determines the outcome.’

As ever Alfred spoke in riddles. Uhtred waited for him to continue having no wish to engage in his mind games tonight.

‘It applies to everything, we will build a united Christian country with the best materials.’

‘Christian men?’

‘That is surely God's purpose and yet he sends you to me time and time again.’

‘A heathen to torment you,’ Uhtred said with a smile.

Alfred faced Uhtred. ‘You do not torment me, every day I thank God for sending you to us.’

His eyes bored intensely into Uhtred, lit up by the many candles on the table.

‘This wax is poor,’ Uhtred said, picking up one of the now misshapen candles and sniffing it distastefully. He poured it over his fingers. ‘They have mixed the beeswax with tallow, lord.’

‘I see that, no mind, I will tell the priests to take a care to get better candles.’

‘It is your monks that make these poor candles, they try to make the beeswax go further. It is dishonest, is it not?’

‘Yes, you are right, and as ever, direct. I will look into the matter.’

‘It is the monks, lord.’

‘God’s servants will be given the benefit of the doubt,’ Alfred insisted stubbornly as Uhtred laughed.

‘Lord,’ Uhtred said, drizzling more wax on the back of his hand.

Alfred watched intently as Uhtred let the drops cool and harden before knocking them off into the burning flames and repeating the process.

‘Why do you do that? Is it something the Danes taught you?’

‘No,’ Uhtred smiled. ‘Why would the Danes do that?’

‘I don’t know, so you learn to endure pain?’

‘I like the feeling,’ Uhtred shrugged, letting more wax spill onto his hand and wrist.

‘The pain does not bother you?’

‘It makes me forget.’

‘Forget that you speak to your king?’

‘That too,’ Uhtred said meeting Alfred’s eyes and holding his gaze.

Alfred picked up a candle, one of the good ones, a tall beeswax pillar marked with black lines and held it up, illuminating Uhtred’s face.

‘What did you come here for this evening?’

‘I wish to return to Coccham, lord,’ Uhtred replied plainly.

‘And what if that is not what I wish?’

‘You are my king.’

‘Yet that has never made you obedient.’

‘I have a wife, children, lands. You sent me to guard the river, lord.’

‘And do your men not do that?’

‘They do, but as I said I have other things in Coccham.’

‘You have people here. Finan is here.’

‘He is, lord,’ Uhtred shifted, nervous now of where the conversation was going.

Alfred stared at Uhtred’s forearms, they were marred with scars from battle and a burn from a cauldron handle. There were very few parts of the warrior that were unmarked. Alfred moved suddenly, taking Uhtred by surprise, wrapping a surprisingly strong hand around his wrist and turning it over, so the soft pale underside was facing up.

‘If I do not give my permission you will go anyway, because you do as you please, Uhtred Ragnarson. If I give my permission I lose your considerable presence in my household guard.’

‘Give me permission, I have taught them well.’

‘Leave Finan here,’ Alfred said mildly. ‘To continue the work you have started.’

‘No,’ Uhtred barked at once, his face flushing. ‘No. Finan comes to Coccham. He is my man. He would not leave me.’

‘He has sworn no oath to you.’

‘He will, this second.’

Alfred tipped the candle, letting the wax fall onto Uhtred’s tender wrist. The yellowish liquid hit his skin and spread, before slowly forming a thin skin, then hardening. Uhtred flinched as more wax dripped up the inside of his arm, the mild pain and warming of his skin flaring a desire in his belly he so often felt when sparring with the king, but did not care to dwell on.

‘You will have your way, Uhtred. Return to Coccham and take your Irishman.’

‘Thank you, lord.’

Uhtred left his arm where it was as Alfred picked up a second candle and poured more wax onto the soft skin on his inner wrist, marking out his initial.

‘But you leave as my man.’

Uhtred looked up at Alfred’s intense gaze, then at his arm. He knocked off the clumps of cooled wax and saw the reddened skin underneath, the splotches the wax had left.

‘Always, lord,’ Uhtred said, trailing his arm out of Alfred’s hand, their fingers lingering for a few moments, before he turned on his heel and left Alfred to his candles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Bird On A Wire for your encouragement.


End file.
